


After Hours

by nightfalltwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Hogsmeade weekend and <i>someone</i> missed the carriages back to the school</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

**To: fluffyllama  
From: Your Secret Santa**

>   
>  **Title:** After Hours  
>  **Author:** nightfalltwen  
>  **Pairing:** Sirius/Rosmerta  
>  **Summary:** It's Hogsmeade weekend and _someone_ missed the carriages back to the school  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Length:** 3930-ish  
>  **Warnings:** ages. 18/27  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for fluffyllama at the 2012 smutty_claus exchange at livejournal and my first realy foray into writing smut outside of Harry's gen. I really hope you enjoy this fic. The bunny bit me and I couldn't shake the idea. 

*~*

_4 December, 1976_

With the last customer shuffling his way out of the pub, Rosmerta turned the sign in the window from open to closed and locked the door. It had been a long day. Hogsmeade weekend days normally were. The addition of crowds of thirteen to sometimes eighteen year olds wore on a person. The pub didn't suffer for business; she sold more food and Butterbeer on Hogsmeade weekends than she did any other time of the year, but she still felt run off her feet.

No one had told her when she bought the Three Broomsticks four years ago that this would be the case.

Rosmerta cast a glance at herself in the mirrored wall behind the bar. Curls of hair had come away from the messy bun she'd had it up in and stuck out in every which direction. With a bit of a frown, she leaned over the bar and dipped her fingers into a glass of water, smoothing down the frizzy strands as best she could. Not that there was anyone around to see her.

Once satisfied that she didn't look as though she'd been stampeded by a herd of rampaging hippogriffs, Rosmerta pointed her wand at the bar. A cloth dunked itself in a bucket of water at the end and started to wipe its way down the surface. She turned and activated a broom to begin sweeping the floor. Once that was underway, she walked over to the wireless and started scrolling through the stations. Occasionally she would hit on a muggle one out of Edinburgh, but she was not that lucky and ended up having only Celestina Warbeck as an option.

Catching the animated broom, Rosmerta stopped the spell and began sweeping on her own, hips swaying to the music. She might not like it all that much, but at least it was something.

"Can't believe you listen to that rubbish, Rosie. I thought you were much more hip than that," a voice spoke out behind her.

Rosmerta shrieked in surprise and dropped the broom, turning on her heel and brandishing her wand ready to defend herself and the coins in her register with all that she had. This pub was her livelihood and she wasn't about to let it go without a fight. In front of her, however, stood not a criminal (though sometimes she debated on that). His grey eyes dropped down to the tip of her wand and then back up to her face. He cocked a brow and slowly ran a hand through his hair.

"Sirius Black!" she said angrily. "We're closed and _you_ were supposed to be back at the school two hours ago. I get written warnings from the headmaster if I don't make sure all the students are gone!"

He ignored her and moved to sit on one of the empty stools, gesturing vaguely to the very large Christmas tree set up in the far corner of the room. "Fell asleep in the booth. Guess James, Peter and Remus thought it would be fun to just leave me behind."

Though there was something in his expression that said he wasn't so worried about either her getting a written warning or being left behind. She knew that he couldn't apparate back to the school, but he didn't seem concerned about making his way back. Rosmerta's eyes narrowed slightly. Those boys were going to get an earful from her the next time she saw them. Didn't matter how much they sweet talked her or made her laugh with their jokes and their antics. Putting her ability to stay open during Hogsmeade weekends was something she was not going to tolerate.

"So what can I do for you while I'm still here," Sirius said, hopping off the stool and making his way around behind the bar. He started turning bottles and looking at labels.

Rosmerta set the broom against the bar and folded her arms across her chest. "I have a good mind to march you up to the school right now."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, long strands of dark hair flopping over his brow. That sly sort of smile appeared on his face. The one that made her wonder why the Hat had ever placed the boy in Gryffindor. He was far too cunning for his own good. But she was older.

She could handle a seventh year student. She could hold her ground.

"You wouldn't do that, Rosie," he said, his voice cloyingly sweet. "It's terribly cold and snowy."

"Then it's your own fault for missing the carriages."

"I was left behind," Sirius turned and leaned over, putting his elbows on the bar, his chin in his hands. He gave her one of those sweet looks that always seemed to make her forget just how troublesome he really was. "Can't you see it in your heart to let me stay the night? They'll be back tomorrow for the second half of the weekend. No one will ever know that I was gone."

Rosmerta knew she was going to regret it, but she finally nodded her acquiescence. Sirius grinned at her and straightened, turning to reach for one of the bottles. Quick as a flash, she grabbed the broom and swung it around, pinning his hand to the shelf. He looked at her with surprise and she shook her head. Then she released his hand and turned the broom, handle first, to him and pointed to the room, making sweeping motions.

"And no magic," she clarified when he took out his wand.

"You were using it earlier," he countered, coming out from behind the bar.

"I'm the owner. And if you're going to stay, then we're going to do this my way," she answered, picking up some tankards from a nearby table and carrying them toward the back. Behind her there was a bit of mumbling, but also the sound of sweeping. 

She had control of this.

It took less time, she hated to admit, to clean the pub with two people than it did with just her going it alone. Rosmerta finished taking stock of what she had and while Sirius helped bring some of the larger casks from the storage room below the pub, she put together a plate of pasties and cold cuts. She poured a finger or two of scotch for herself, paused and then added a couple of drops of water. After a moment she decided to pour a second glass since it was never good to drink alone.

Setting the plate on the counter and the two glasses, Rosmerta finally allowed herself a chance to put her feet up.

Sirius plunked himself down beside her and snatched up the scotch with a grin. "I figure we've earned this," he said thoughtfully.

She gave him a wry look and then took a sip of her scotch. The few drops of water had opened the flavour perfectly. " _I've_ earned it. You just get to indulge because I'm allowing it. You did a bit of sweeping and carried some casks."

He tilted his head. "You really do all of this by yourself every night?"

Rosmerta shrugged. "I have Oswald in the kitchen to do the cooking, but that's all the staff I can afford right now. He goes home at eight."

Sirius let out a low whistle and polished off his drink. Rosmerta did the same, minus the whistle, and found herself filling both their glasses again. Part of her knew it wasn't responsible to ply a seventh year with alcohol, but he he'd helped her without complaint and she found that she was enjoying the company. It was a damn sight better than having a conversation with her canary upstairs.

Glancing sideways, she had a look at the young man sitting beside her. He was handsome. He had an aristocratic look about him, long nose, striking features and those grey eyes that were soft one moment and stormy the next. He was also young. Ten years her junior and, as her grandfather would say, full of piss and vinegar. Not that she was old, Rosmerta was far from it. But as the years passed it always felt like the seventh years were getting younger and younger. It made her feel rather dirty for thinking that they were handsome.

Slowly they made their way through half a bottle of scotch, talking about nothing of import. She told him about the business, about regular customers and the plans for February Hogsmeade weekend. He told her about his recent eighteenth birthday, winter exams, James Potter finally getting together with that little redhead, Lily Evans. It was well after midnight when Rosmerta finally capped the bottle and sent it floating back to the shelf. She did the same with the empty plate and glasses, but their destination was the kitchen sink. With a few more flicks of her wand, she dimmed the lights and pointed to the stairs.

"My flat is up that way," she said with a yawn, her head swimming pleasantly.

It took a try or two with her big brass key, and a few rather undignified giggles, before she managed to get the door unlocked. The flat wasn't large. One main room with a sofa and a fireplace and two extra doors. One led to the bath and the other led to her somewhat pitiful single pushed up against the wall. With much concentration on walking, she made her way over to the linen cupboard and took out a blanket and a pillow, bringing them over to the sofa where he'd casually draped himself.

"Pub opens at eleven," she said, laying the blanket over the back of the sofa. "Sunday students will be down by twelve."

"I know," he said. "Done a few Hogsmeade weekends before."

He gave her a lopsided smile that sort of made her insides go a bit wobbly. Damn drink was mucking about with her judgement. It was probably best that she called it a night. Everything would be straightened out once she was sober again. Letting out a sigh, she glanced at her bedroom door and part of her wondered just how soundproof the room was. She could use a good frig.

Rosmerta turned to leave him, but was stopped by his hand around her wrist. She looked first at his fingers and then at his face before he gave a slow tug. Time seemed a bit sluggish as she dropped down onto the sofa cushion. And she wasn't sure what to make of the look on his face. There was something, mystery or mischievousness or seduction. Lord, she really did have too much to drink. She was seeing things now. Reaching over, she patted his cheek.

"We both should sleep," she said with a laugh.

"Interesting suggestion," he replied wryly. "I'm going to counter with an alternative."

His alternative wasn't words, however. Instead he slid over on the sofa, bracing his one hand against the back of it and pressed his mouth against hers.

Rosmerta's first instinct, cloudy as her judgement had grown, was to reach up and place a hand on Sirius' chest to push him away. But as soon as her hand rested against the rather muscled surface, she found herself curling her fingers against his shirt until she had a good fist of it. Her mouth opened against his and she felt the tip of his tongue sweep along her lip. A squeaky sort of sound escaped her throat and she pushed back with her own tongue, shifting as his free hand began lightly tugging pins out of her hair.

Curls started to tumble down around her shoulders and Rosmerta let go of his shirt, her hands moving to his shoulders and then his neck, fingers raking through the soft waves of his hair.

She could have gone on like this forever.

Sirius' mouth slowly moved away from hers and he began kissing along her jawline and down to worry a small patch of skin at the curve of her neck. Rosmerta sighed and melted into the sensation, her knees squeezing together briefly as she squirmed. She felt his hand rest on her thigh and slip down the curve of it, warmth from his palm bleeding through the fabric of her skirt to warm her skin. All at once that warmth changed from being through fabric to skin against skin. He'd slipped his hand up under her skirt and past her stockings to brush against her leg. She didn't even realise it was happening until it did.

"Oh god," she whispered, eyes closing as his fingertips crept higher, lightly dancing over her knickers.

"I prefer Sirius," he murmured cheekily against her neck. "But whatever you want, Rosie."

When his fingertip slipped under the fabric of her knickers to seek out her slick cleft, Rosmerta couldn't help but moan, her knees falling apart. Her body went suddenly very warm, warmer than it had been with the scotch and the kisses. Shivers went up and down her spine as his fingertip found her clit and started to circle it. It was amazing. His fingers and his lips setting her body on fire. She'd never considered that it would feel this way. Boys had never been this talented when she was in school.

Her eyes flew open, reality crashing down _hard_ around her. Oh god, she was practically shagging a student!

"Stop, Sirius." She pushed on his shoulders until his clever fingers and lips were far enough away that she could untangle herself from the situation. "We can't!"

Rosmerta got to her feet, teetered unsteadily and the straightened her skirts. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Behind her she heard him shift a little on the sofa and then get to his feet. His eyes bore holes, almost, in the back of her, or perhaps she was just burning from the inside out. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment.

"Can't what?" he asked quietly.

"We can't do... that," she said, waving vaguely at the sofa before turning to look at him. Her body ached uncomfortably and she desperately wanted to touch herself to relieve the tension that he'd created between her legs. "I'm... you're seventeen and I'm so much older than you and this is just.. we can't do this." Rosmerta backed away slowly.

"Eighteen." The colour of his eyes seemed to shift and change in the dim light of the sitting room.

"It doesn't matter," she said hastily, clenching her hands against her skirt, bunching it up slightly.

"Why doesn't it matter?" Sirius asked, tilting his head to one side. She vaguely thought it reminded her of the way her old beagle used to do that, but shook her head because that was just silly. He folded his arms over his chest. "I'm old enough. You're fucking _gorgeous_. Why not, Rosie?"

Rosmerta took a few gulping breaths and shook her head. " _Because_." Shoving her hands up into her hair, she looked at him. This was wrong. She knew it was wrong. She just couldn't voice _why_ it was wrong. "I can't sleep with a student."

He stepped closer to her, a wicked look on his face. Damn his boldness, she thought miserably. It made it so entirely difficult to do the right thing. Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Her senses were swimming with him, the scent of whatever soap he used, the taste of his kisses, the feel of his lithe body under her hands.

"Who said anything about sleeping?" he asked, his voice low.

But she couldn't answer him. Instead she pointed with a shaky hand to the sofa and then fled to her bedroom, thumping the door closed behind her.

Inside the tiny space, staring at the single pushed up against the wall, Rosmerta leaned against the door, taking a deep breath. The rough wood dug into her shoulder blades and she raised a hand to press against her eyes. His words echoed in her ears. _Who said anything about sleeping?_ Her other hand dropped down to rest against her thigh, slowly dragging her skirt up until the tops of her thighs were exposed to the cool air of her bedroom.

Lightly she dragged her fingertips across the front of her knickers. They were soaked.

"I am in so much trouble," she said, the hand over her eyes dropping down to the doorknob.

When she opened the door, she turned to find Sirius standing just on the other side of it. His mouth was raised in half a smile, the cheeky bastard. He reached out a fingertip and drew it down the side of her neck, over her collarbone and traced light circles over the swell of her breasts before playing with the laces on the front of her wenchy sort of blouse.

"Still considering sleeping?" he asked, his voice low.

Rosmerta shook her head. "Not tonight. I changed my mind," she replied. Then she slid her arms around his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his.

The fire that he'd built within her might have dwindled just a little in the few moments they were apart, but the moment their mouths crashed together, it raged anew. She didn't just let him kiss her, she kissed him back. She lost control of it. Any trouble she was thinking about disappeared. Her hands roamed everywhere, pulling at his shirt until she could feel skin. Somewhere in the back of her head she registered buttons popping and a few hitting the floor.

Tearing herself away from his mouth, she sucked in a breath.

"S'okay," he said with a chuckle, making short work of the laces of her blouse and pulling it up over her head. "Didn't like that shirt anyhow."

Rosmerta couldn't help but laugh and it took a few short moments before they were both fully undressed. She flattened her hand against his chest and pressed him backwards toward the sofa. When he was seated, she climbed onto his lap. His erection brushed against the slight curve of her belly and she rocked against it with a soft sigh. For the first time that evening she heard him groan and it made her smile. He was so cocky; it was nice to hear him lose a bit of control. Rocking again, Rosmerta reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock, sliding them down the shaft. The strangled noise it elicited caused her pulse to hum.

Sexually speaking, she was experienced enough to know what got her off and what got a bloke off. She wasn't the experienced woman waiting to educate a young man in the manner of pleasure. Judging from how he'd touched her before and how his hands were running over her skin now, Sirius was in no way needing a teacher. Part of her wondered where he'd learned his moves. But the rest of her really didn't want to know.

Who wants to talk about that during sex?

"Fuck," he said under his breath, catching her hand, yet not stopping her completely. "Keep doing that and I'm not going to last."

"Is that so?" she asked with another long slow stroke. Her thumb brushed lightly over the tip.

"Yeah, it is." 

Sirius pushed her back and to the side until she was sprawled more on the sofa. Then he lifted one of her legs up to hook her calf over the back of it before he began kissing his way from her ankle, down to her knee and along her quivering thigh until he reached her aching center. Rosmerta had been touched like this before, but it had never set her on fire like this. And when his mouth moved across her wet flesh, she cried out in happy pleasure. His tongue slid over each fold, lapping at her before his lips closed around her clit, worrying it until her hips began to uncontrollably buck. 

When she came, the sound that burst from her was almost a squeal and her whole body pulsed with the force of it. He lifted his head, those stormy grey eyes looking almost surprised. 

"That's a first for me," he said, his mouth curving into a smile.

"Is it?" she asked, stretching and feeling rather boneless. Rosmerta was quickly getting the hang of tossing back the cheeky comments. "I feel for all the other girls."

He gave her a rather affronted look before he shifted her until she turned over. Then he gave her bare backside a light smack before pressing his cock against her. Rosmerta rocked backwards with a pleased sigh, her arms draped over the side of the sofa. She liked this. She liked the feel of his hands on her hips, pulling her back. She liked the sensation of his cock sliding into her and groaned as he settled deep.

They stayed there for a moment. Her breathing shallowly and him running his fingertips along the curve of her spine.

Rosmerta made an impatient noise and pushed back against him. Sirius needed no further encouragement as he began to thrust slowly into her and with every thrust, she backed herself up against it, feeling him drive deep into her. His fingers dug into her flesh, certain to leave little possessive marks on her skin in the morning. Soon she felt him slide one hand up her waist, curling around to run along her ribcage until it found one of her breasts, fingers plucking at her sensitive nipple. Rosmerta reacted by pushing hard against him and clenching her muscles around him until she heard a wild sort of noise from behind her.

Something changed then. His thrusts came faster and she could feel little sparks explode behind her eyes with every slap of skin against skin, spiralling her higher and higher. And that keening sort of sound was coming from her throat.

She could feel the moment before he came, his body started rocking erratically against her and, reaching up, she grabbed his hand in order to push it down from her breast. She guided his fingers back to her sensitive clit, getting him to circle around it with his rough fingers until she was trembling on the edge of a second orgasm. It was the final thrust and his shuddering cry and his release flooding her caused her to topple over the edge with a sobbing cry.

The pair of them slumped against the sofa, breathing hard.

Closing her eyes briefly, she felt him kiss her shoulder and nuzzle against the back of her neck. Reality tugged at the haze of her euphoria threatening to turn everything warm to ice. 

"We can't do this again," she said after a long moment.

"I suppose not," he agreed, his tongue lapping at the space between her shoulder blades, threatening to wind her back up again. "But can we leave the responsible adult stuff until morning?"

Rosmerta shifted and when he slid off of her, she turned over to face him, giving him a scrutinising look. She should say no. She should get up and leave and go to bed and not think about what happened. It would be the smart thing to do. He would go back to school, she would go back to the pub. And that would be that. Except she knew it would never be that simple.

On the other hand... those smart and responsible thoughts were easily pushed aside.

There were a lot of hours until morning.

A lot of hours before she had to be the adult in all of this and send him on his way.


End file.
